Forbidden Fantasies
by pens and dragons
Summary: Korra pays Amon a late night visit, with surprising results. Kind of smutty, heavy romance.


_**Oops. I accidently Amorra'd. Don't read if the idea of Korra and Amon (kind of) going at it bothers you. **_

_Who knew the life of a revolutionary could be so hard? _Amon pondered the many downsides to being the face-or at least the mask-of a massive uprising as he put off doing paperwork on a rainy Thursday night. He kept sparse chambers in the Equalist headquarters; he demanded that members of his party lead modest and unassuming lives and thought that he should act accordingly. Besides, he hated the tacky décor that was so common in the lavish homes of Republic City's upper class.

A knock at the door jerked Amon from his idle dwellings. A young female Chi-blocker stood there, a sheaf of paperwork in her hands.

"Here's some paperwork for you to sign, sir," she said, moving forwards. Amon watched in boredom as the girl sauntered towards his desk. Instead of depositing the sheaf of paper, however, she dumped it unceremoniously on his desk and began to move around to where Amon slouched in his desk chair.

There was something different about this Chi-blocker. She showed none of the usual fear displayed by his young troops, none of the reservation. Amon often told himself that his Chi-blockers loved and respected him, but he knew that their reservation around him came from a place of terror rather than adoration.

The Chi-blocker moved slowly towards him, and Amon felt suddenly intoxicated by the slow sway of her hips, the curves of her body that were flaunted by the skintight black uniform. He leaned back in his chair as she approached him, overwhelmed by a feeling of uncertainty. It had been a long time since a woman had made any form of advancement towards him, save for his particular _radical _female followers. The girl-she couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, her body was young and supple beneath the black cloth-drew even closer, and Amon wondered if he should reprimand her. Too late. She looped her arms around his neck, leaving Amon face-to-face with her impressive bust. Amon was already feeling a little lightheaded-he hadn't made physical contact with _anyone _in this long (unless you counted removing people's bending) and when the Chi-blocker's fingers moved down his neck he could _feel _the sparks against his skin. Then she slid onto his lap, straddling him. Amon gulped audibly, and hoped that his young seductress hadn't heard. He didn't want to ruin what little sexual credibility he had.

_Nevermind that_, Amon thought as the Chi-blocker seized his hand. _I haven't gotten laid in __**ages**__…wait, what the hell is she doing? WHERE'S SHE TAKING MY HAND!_

Her touch was cool and light on Amon's hands, as she settled his fingers on the zipper of her tight uniform.

"Go on," she prompted. "You know you want to."

Amon's throat suddenly felt dry, he tried to speak but no words came out. He felt awful-like a foolish, lustful boy fumbling with a prostitute for the first time. He could practically _feel _the smirk that he was sure was stretched across the Chi-blocker's lips beneath that mask. She put her hand on his, guiding the zipper down, revealing golden-brown skin, and impressive cleavage. Amon raised his free hand and brushed her collarbone. Despite her womanly curves and muscular build, she felt frail, fragile, to Amon.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his tongue heavy in his mouth. "Tell me…tell me who you are."

She released Amon's hand and reached up slowly, removing the Chi-blocker mask slowly. Amon watched with something close to horror as her face was revealed. He was right-she was beautiful: high cheekbones, golden-brown skin, crystal blue eyes, all framed by tumbling locks of dark hair. Korra, the Avatar. Amon was seized by a strange sensation, far from the usual repulsion he felt when he laid eyes on his nemesis. At the Council rallies and events, she emanated a wholesome charm, a youthful determination that made her Republic City's sweetheart and caused a deep disgust to arise in Amon's stomach whenever he looked at her.

"Avatar…" Amon growled, his hand going to the back of her neck. The Chi-blocker mask slipped to the floor, and Amon tangled his fingers in her long hair, forcing her head back. Korra bared the smooth skin of her throat to Amon, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Go on, Amon. Hurt me, take my bending. I'm _yours._"

Amon resisted the urge to hurt her very badly, to show her just how dangerous he was, what he was capable…he could have bloodbent her into a mewling, cowed heap right there, could have had her kneeling before him, forced her to bow before her rightful master…

"You know you won't do it," Korra added, her voice positively _dripping _with smug satisfaction. Amon released her, and she settled back to observe him with a self-satisfied smile on her face. Amon raised his free hand and brushed her collarbone. Despite her womanly curves and muscular build, she felt frail, fragile, to Amon. Like a bird, like her bones might be hollow. She was a waterbender-like him-born and raised on the ice floes, on the barren tundra. _Fragile _creatures didn't exist down there, on the ice fields. There was no room for anything that couldn't fight its way through life, tooth and claw, no room for the weak.

"You're so breakable…so fragile…" Amon said quietly, bringing his hands down to rest on her hips. He felt her fingers playing over his, her hands so much smaller. Yet a confident smile on her face reminded him that she was anything but delicate.

"_I'm _fragile? Look at you…falling to pieces …I'm just _tearing _you apart, aren't I?"

His pride was wounded, and Amon felt the urge to put the young Avatar in her place. But he couldn't bloodbend her, not here, not now. Instead, he growled,

"You shouldn't even _be _here, Avatar."

_That was weak, _he told himself. She leaned forwards, her lips brushing his ear.

"You can't tell me what to do, _Amon_."

And then she kissed him, pressing herself tightly against his chest, tipping his mask back to meet his mouth…then her lips traveled lower, to his throat...she was grinding against him, their bodies so close that Amon could practically feel the Avatar's heartbeat.

Amon groaned loudly, then gave a manly cough to cover it up. The Avatar was right-he was falling apart. Her touch burned like cold fire, and he needed her water tribe healing powers to keep on going. He pressed his hands against her lower back, drawing her closer. She slid her hand between the folds of his tunic, and he thanked the spirits that he never wore his armor while doing paperwork. He felt her fingers moving on the left side of his chest, flat against his skin.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, tracing the outline of her jaw.

"Making sure you still have a heart, you naughty boy."

And then her hands were wandering lower and lower…

"Sir?"

Amon jolted unpleasantly, his eyes flying open. He realized that he had been slumped at his desk, a stack of unfiled paperwork in front of him. Raindrops slid down the window and thrummed on the tin roof. His First Lieutenant and a few Chi-blockers stood before him, their eyebrows raised.

"We have some orders for you to sign…" the Lieutenant informed him.

"Fine," Amon agreed, waving them out of his office. They all bowed low before their leader, but as the group filed out the door he heard their mutters:

"Did you _hear _him-"

"He was practically _moaning_, I bet he was having some kind of perverted dream…"

Amon straightened at his desk, brushing off his tunic and attempting to ignore the giggles from the outer hall. Then he stood, making sure that the Chi-blockers were gone. Perverted or not, he was off to take a cold shower.

**Please review :)**


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